


The Fatherland

by angel_of_iego



Series: The Fatherland [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_of_iego/pseuds/angel_of_iego
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Acacia, an original Bosmer/Nord character, has been captured along with a group of prisoners who call themselves Stormcloaks. Acacia must try and survive her first day in Skyrim in order to save her family and make her father proud, but she has been caught in the middle of a war she knows nothing about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter closely follows the dialogue from the game. It will deviate more as the chapters progress.

       She dreamt of a city she had never known. It existed in trees so tall they seemed to become one with the sky. Never were these tree cities in the same location two days in row. Nature was always in motion. The streaming waters near her village never stopped their flow, nor did the wildlife ever cease to age. These colossal trees were no different. They migrated with the passing of time.

       Her childhood was defined by the tales her mother spoke of, most of which involved the city in the trees. Being so far from home, her dream was all that remained of her mother’s stories. Her distant, corporeal self could feel the tight bonds forbidding the separation of her hands. The chilled air of the physical world brought her slowly from her sleep, and the vision of the walking city began to drift farther and farther away.

       When she came back to consciousness she was distractingly aware of the hardwood seat beneath her. The air seemed colder somehow, as if her dream had kept her warm. It was uncomfortable to be awake, something she was realizing more and more since leaving home. Reluctant to open her eyes, she listened to the distinct sound of horse hooves on stone. She had no guess about who had captured her or where they were headed, but she knew it would not end well for her. Her curiosity opened her eyes.

       The environment matched the sharp cold of the air. The snow covered ground welcomed the equally snow covered trees, and the horizon was comprised of rigid mountains reaching for other realms. The young woman had heard much about the province of Skyrim, and so far it was everything she had expected.

       “Hey, you. You’re finally awake.” She focused her eyes on the man addressing her. He sat across from her and was bound at the wrists like she was. He was dressed in clothes much too thin for the cold weather. “You were trying to cross the border, right?”

       Remembering was difficult. “Yes, I must have been. It’s all a little fuzzy though.”

       “Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

       She turned her head to find two more men in the back of the wagon. The one next to the first man was in similar garb as her. She inferred him to be the thief. The other man, who sat next to her, appeared to be clad in warmer clothing. She wondered how he was lucky enough to not be left to freeze. She might have asked him if she hadn’t have noticed that his mouth was tied closed.

       “Damn you Stormcloaks,” the thief muttered. “Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy.”

       The first man shook his head and a grin of amusement spread across his face. The woman assumed the man must have been a Stormcloak soldier, whatever that meant. It was obvious he disagreed with the thief, but he believed himself above arguing. He knew the thief would be too unintelligent to persuade.

       “If they hadn’t been looking for you,” the thief continued, “I could’ve stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell.”

       She attempted to distance herself from the tension by looking ahead at the horse leading them. She noticed other wagons full of prisoners, most likely the rest of the Stormcloaks.

       “You there,” the thief called to her. “You and me—we shouldn’t be here. It’s these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

       The Stormcloak responded before she had the chance. “We’re all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.”

       “Shut up back there!” the Imperial driver demanded. The prisoners all looked down at their feet, though they didn’t seem particularly intimidated by the soldier. After all, they were already under arrest so there likely wasn’t much he could threaten them with. Their silence only lasted a couple of minutes.

       The thief inspected the man with his mouth bound. “And what’s wrong with him, huh?”

       “Watch your tongue!” Spat the imprisoned soldier. “You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King.”

       The thief’s face took on a foreboding look. “Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You’re the leader of the rebellion. But if they’ve captured you…Oh gods, where are they taking us?”

       The thief began to panic, solidifying the woman’s fear. She still didn’t know where the wagons were heading, but she knew that the Imperials had no intention of letting them leave once they arrived.

       “I don’t know where we’re going,” the Stormcloak admitted. “But Sovngarde awaits.”

       The young woman recognized the word Sovngarde from a time long since passed, but she couldn’t bring herself to remember its significance. The thief continued his panic, muttering in denial. He soon quieted, and it was then that the woman noticed a gated settlement not far ahead of the wagons.

       “Hey,” the Stormcloak soldier said into the tense silence. “What village are you from, horse thief?”

       “Why do you care?” the thief responded bitterly.

       “A Nord’s last thoughts should be of home.”

       The thief softened upon the man’s words. “Rorikstead. I’m…I’m from Rorikstead.”

       The man nodded and gave the thief a sympathetic grin. It was partially his fault the thief was in such a mess, yet he seemed to care about the man’s wellbeing. Whoever the Stormcloaks were, the woman figured they couldn’t be all that terrible.

       The wagons arrived at the gates which opened for them immediately. The settlement didn’t appear to be a military fort, but rather a village. She guessed they were just passing through, which brought a smile to her sore face. She would get to see Skyrim’s civilian life after all. She figured that maybe if she thought hard enough, she could imagine the village was Whiterun.

       A soldier from within the village called to an Imperial officer who sat nearby on horseback. “General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!”

       “Good,” the officer responded. “Let’s get this over with.”

_Headsman?_ She wondered to herself.

       “Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh,” the thief prayed. “Divines, please help me.”

       “Look at him,” grumbled the Stormcloak prisoner. “General Tullius, the Military Governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this.”

       The woman inspected the General. Though he was on horseback it was obvious that he was a short man. He was surrounded by some Altmer dressed in Thalmor armor. The High Elves were casting condescending looks upon the prisoners, but the girl had a feeling they would be giving the same looks to free men. The woman took no offense to the Stormcloak prisoner’s curse on the elves. She knew she was nothing like those vile Thalmor agents.

       The Stormcloak’s bitter expression faded as he took in the village. “This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in.” The man’s voice softened into a somber song. “Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe.”

       She watched the Stormcloak prisoner as he stared at the floor. He was no longer in the wagon, but in his youth with his long-dead innocence. His last thoughts would be of home.

       “What is your name?” she asked him.

       “Ralof.”

       She turned to the thief. “And yours?”

       “I’m Lokir.”

       She nodded slowly, glad to be familiar with her companions before they were all separated. In the streets, children gathered to watch the soldiers march through as their parents pushed them back inside. They knew an execution was nothing a child should be witnessing. The wagons halted in a courtyard that held two Imperial flags—red banners with the Empire’s black dragon symbol in the center. An executioner’s block was placed in the middle of the courtyard. Ralof muttered something to the panicked Lokir about reaching the end of the line.

       “Let’s go,” Ralof encouraged. “Shouldn’t keep the gods waiting for us.”

       “How is it that you are so ready for the end?” the woman asked the Stormcloak.

       “The end is Sovngarde, and I have earned my time there.”

_There’s that word again_ , she thought. _Sovngarde…_

       The four of them were directed off the wagon and made to stand before two Imperials, one who appeared to be an officer of sorts and the other a uniform soldier. Lokir pleaded with Ralof to inform them of his innocence.

       “We’re not rebels!”

       “Face your death with some courage, thief,” Ralof responded.

       The Imperial officer began addressing the group, instructing the prisoners to make their way to the block when their name was called. Ralof muttered more curses towards the Empire as the Imperial soldier called out the first name.

       “Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm.”

       As the man with his mouth bound stepped forward, Ralof praised, “It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric.”

       The Imperial soldier continued with the next name. “Ralof of Riverwood.” Ralof stepped forward with no fear. The young woman was unsure what to make of this man, but she could not deny that he was brave.

       “Lokir of Rorikstead,” the solider called.

       Lokir lurched forward. “No, I’m not a rebel! You can’t do this!” The two Imperials held up their hands in an attempt to calm the thief, but before they could utter a word Lokir fled. “You’re not going to kill me!”

       “Lokir, stop!” the woman called out to her newfound acquaintance. The officer summoned the archers and they did not hesitate to fire two arrows into the horse thief’s back. A scream erupted from the man as he fell to his knees. He hit the ground hard and was then motionless.

_Sovngarde,_ she remembered. _The eternal home for Nord dead._

       “Anyone else feel like running?” the officer threatened. The prisoners remained silent, and it was then that the soldier noticed her presence.

       “Wait, you there. Step forward, elf.” Her eyes were fixed on Lokir’s still form as she made her way towards the soldier. “Who are you?”

       “My name is Acacia.”

       “You’re a Bosmer, yes?”

       “Yes, sir. And part Nord, as well.”

       “What’s a Wood Elf like you doing in Skyrim?”

       “Hadvar,” the officer interrupted. “Let’s get on with it.”

       “My apologies, Captain,” the soldier responded. “But what do we do with her? She’s not on the list.”

       “Forget the list. She goes to the block.”

       The soldier’s face went dark. He seemed to want to protest, but instead he nodded. “By your orders, Captain.” He looked Acacia in the eyes then. “I’m sorry about this. We’ll make sure your remains are returned to Valenwood.”

       “Follow me,” the Captain ordered as she started off towards the executioner’s block. The block was to the left, surrounded by Nords waiting to die and Imperials waiting to kill. A stone tower rested only a few feet beyond them. General Tullius presented himself to the group of prisoners.

       “Ulfric Stormcloak,” he began. “Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn’t use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne.” Tullius ignored the muffled and incomprehensible words from the man whose mouth was still bound. “You started this war, plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down and restore the peace.”

       Acacia couldn’t help but think of her father during this entire mess. The Voice, Stormcloaks, war, it was all so confusing. When her father told her stories of his homeland, it never seemed this plagued. The recent years must have changed the cold land drastically. Her thoughts were silenced by a loud, animal-like noise in the distance. The group of enemies looked to the skies in unison.

       “What was that?” Hadvar questioned.

       “It’s nothing,” replied Tullius. “Carry on.”

       “Yes, General Tullius,” responded the Captain. “Give them their last rites.”

       A priestess of Arkay stepped forward and began her process. “As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and the earth of Nirn, our beloved—“

       “For the love of Talos,” yelled a Stormcloak prisoner as he walked uninvited towards the block. “Shut up and let’s get this over with.”

       The priestess shot him an angry glance. “As you wish.”

       The soldier stood waiting at the block. “Come on! I haven’t got all morning.”

       The Imperial Captain made her way to the prisoner and pushed him on his knees. She used her foot to force his torso down, exposing his neck to the block. The soldier had his head turned towards the Imperials as he muttered his final words. “My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials. Can you say the same?” The executioner lifted his axe above his head and swung down with force. With his hands still bound together, the Nord departed from Nirn. Blood soaked the block and the stones surrounding it, the young soldier’s head rolling in the red pool.

       Stormcloak prisoners yelled curses at the Imperials while townsfolk yelled curses at the Stormcloaks. Acacia felt out of place, caught in the middle of a war she knew nothing of.

       “As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof mused.

       “The Bosmer is next,” called the Captain. Acacia prepared her legs for the journey when again an animal’s call was heard in the distance.

       “There it is again,” Hadvar noted. “Did you hear it?”

       “I said next prisoner, Wood Elf. Let’s go.”

       The walk to the executioner was the longest walk Acacia had ever made. It even compared not to her trek throughout Tamriel. The Captain forced her down the same as she had with the other prisoner. The block was cold from the winter air, yet warm from the fresh blood of the Stormcloak. Her head was turned, and in her vision was the executioner with the tower looming behind him. _How poetic,_ she thought.

       The executioner raised his axe, and Acacia prepared to say goodbye to her world. Thoughts of home filled her. Her mother, her village, her father. She had wanted nothing more than to save them, to make her father proud. But she had failed.

      “I’m sorry, father,” she cried.

       The axe was preparing its descent when the loud noise returned. The Imperial forces began yelling in confusion, but Acacia remained in place. Her eyes were fixed on the faceless executioner.

       “What in Oblivion is that?” yelled a soldier.

       Suddenly a large creature landed hard on the tower behind the executioner, causing the man to fall and drop his weapon.

       “Dragon!” screamed another soldier.

       Acacia couldn’t bring herself to move. The creature let out an awful shout as the skies turned a dark, restless purple. The soldiers were thrown into chaos in attempt to bring the townspeople to safety. As Acacia’s vision went dark, she wondered if Sovngarde would take her.


	2. Dream of Our Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Acacia must escape Helgen and the dragon. She must choose who to follow: Ralof or Hadvar.

      Acacia was only on the ground for less than a minute. The sound of a village’s demise brought her to her feet. The air all around her burned hot as fireballs shot down from the sky, and she couldn’t help but feel grateful that the air was no longer sharp and cold. She took a moment to assess the damage. Helgen had been reduced to a pile of burning rubble. Imperial soldiers ran amongst the chaos, rushing the townsfolk into buildings. The only Stormcloak Acacia could find in the mess was Ralof. He stood not far from her, crouching to avoid an untimely death from a fireball.

       “Hey, Bosmer,” Ralof called to her. “Get up! Come on, the gods won’t give us another chance!”

       “Is that really a dragon?” Acacia mumbled as she stood her shaky body. Only moments before she was facing the end of her story, and it seemed odd to be walking again.

       “No time to chat,” Ralof yelled over the crash of a burning rock. “This way!” The man ran towards a nearby tower, one that seemed neglected by the creature’s attack.

       Acacia forced her defiant legs to move into a jog. When she reached the door to the tower, she risked a glance behind her. Imperial archers were stationed on the walls surrounding Helgen, firing endless volleys of arrows at the flying beast. The creature was colossal in size, and its body was darker than any midnight Acacia had experienced in her short life. Thanks to her Bosmer blood, Acacia was usually able to command animals into making them less hostile towards her, but something told her this creature was different. The beast flew closer, and Acacia thought she heard it speak before releasing a stream of fire out of its mouth.

       “Inside, elf,” Ralof demanded. “Close the door!”

       Acacia obliged. She managed to escape death once already, and she didn’t want to ruin her only chance for survival. She turned to face the room that was occupied by six souls including herself and Ralof. Two Stormcloak soldiers were on the floor, writhing in pain as they lay in pools of their own blood. A third soldier tended to their wounds as if they had a chance of making it out of Helgen alive. Ralof addressed the fourth Stormcloak, who Acacia recognized as the man from the wagon. His mouth was no longer bound.

       “Jarl Ulfric,” Ralof began. “What is that thing? Could the legends be true?”

       “Legends don’t burn down villages,” Ulfric responded calmly. “But we need to move. Now. Up through the tower, let’s go!”

       Acacia was closest to the stairwell, so she moved first. Her legs still weren’t ready for running, and the stairs weren’t helping them. As she made her way up the tower she caught sight of a man on the stairs not far ahead. He looked down at the group and motioned them forward. Acacia was almost to him when the wall of the tower broke in, crushing the man under its weight. Acacia stumbled backwards, catching herself before she fell. The man screamed under the heavy stone of the wall, blood spilling out from underneath the pile. She moved to help him but immediately halted her actions when the flying beast appeared in the newly formed hole. The creature shot a spray of fire into the tower, engulfing the man beneath the stone. His screams elevated briefly before silencing.

       When the beast flew away, Ralof brought himself beside Acacia. He pointed to a location outside of the hole. “See that inn on the other side?”

       Acacia looked and found a building just outside the tower. Most of the building was destroyed or on fire, and the roof had caved in on the side closest to them. “Yes.”

       “Jump through the roof and keep going.”

       Acacia studied him. _He can’t be serious. Jump?_

       “Go!” Ralof demanded. “We’ll follow when we can.”

       She surveyed her surroundings in an attempt to find any other way out of this mess, but there was nothing. She had to jump. No other words were spoken before she leapt out of the hole. Her jump fell slightly short, causing her to almost lose her footing when she reached the inn. She extended her hand, caught a sturdy piece of the wall, and pulled herself inside. The opposite end of the inn was exposed to the outside, and Acacia wasted no time getting there. There were two men on the street outside the inn, one who she recognized as the Imperial soldier who took her name.

       “Haming,” the soldier called to a child standing in an open courtyard. “You need to get over here. Now!”

       “Yes, Hadvar,” the child cried as he ran to his father. The creature landed where Haming had been, casting flames in their direction.

       “Everybody get back!” Hadvar yelled. He readied his sword for an attack, but the beast took flight once more. Its wings sent a large gust of hot wind their way. The soldier noticed Acacia then. “Still alive, prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way.”

       “You won’t have to tell me that twice,” Acacia replied. “You have a sword, I have my fists.”

       “Come on, I have to find General Tullius and join the defense. This way.” Hadvar quickly made his way deeper into Helgen, Acacia following closely behind. They had a few close calls with the beast along the way, and Acacia stood by as she watched the life drain out of two Imperial soldiers. One of them reminded her of a friend back home, and in death he clung tight to an amulet of Mara.

       Hadvar approached General Tullius as he fought the beast with a squad of Imperials. “Into the keep, soldier!”

       “Yes, sir,” Hadvar responded. “Come on, prisoner. It’s just you and me.” The two were making their way to the Helgen keep when Ralof appeared in their path. “Ralof, you damned traitor! Out of my way!”

       Ralof gripped a war axe. “We’re escaping, Hadvar. You’re not stopping us this time.”

       Hadvar didn’t linger on the topic. “Fine. I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde.” The two started in different directions. “You, elf! Into the keep, come on!”

       “You coming, Bosmer?” Ralof asked as he backed towards his freedom.

       Acacia considered her options. She had no idea who to side with in the war, for she had no idea what the war was being fought over. She had been with Ralof since she arrived in Skyrim, and the young rebel seemed trustworthy. However, she knew going with him would mark her as an enemy of the Empire. She turned towards the keep and the eager Imperial soldier.

       “Fine,” Ralof stated. “Maybe you will choose differently later.” The Stormcloak turned and ran towards his leader.

       Acacia made her way into the keep, sticking close to Hadvar. For a fleeting moment she wondered whether or not she had made the correct choice. She shook the thought from her mind. Hadvar had wanted to free her from the block. The Empire was not all terrible.

       “Looks like we’re the only ones who made it,” Hadvar noted as he shut the door to the keep. They stood in a large room occupied by beds that had once belonged to Imperial soldiers. “Was that really a dragon? The bringers of the End Times?”

       Acacia shook her head, too worked up to form any words.

       “We should keep moving,” Hadvar suggested. “Come here. Let me see if I can get those bindings off.”

       “Thank you,” Acacia said as she stepped towards the soldier. He used his knife to cut the tight bonds. They fell to the floor and Acacia rubbed her sore wrists.

       “Take a look around, there should be plenty of gear to choose from. I’m going to see if I can find something for these burns.”

       Acacia looked down at the man’s exposed arms and noticed his wounds for the first time. Her arms housed the same raw marks. Hadvar walked off into the keep, leaving Acacia alone for the first time in Skyrim. The sound of destruction continued outside of the keep, shaking the walls and sending dust into the dim air. She made her way to a chest in the corner of the room. Inside was a set of Imperial light armor and matching boots. They were standard issue—brown leather accented with a rusty red color. She quickly got out of the prisoner’s rags she had been dressed in, which were falling apart on account of the burn holes. Her naked body ached in the musty air of the barracks. She wasted no time dressing herself in the garb of an Imperial. At the bottom of the chest she found an old, iron sword. It wasn’t much, but it was better than facing the world empty handed.

       Hadvar returned moments later with medicine for their burns. He tended to the both of them without any words. When he was finished he made his way to the door. “Let’s go, that dragon is tearing up the entire keep.”

       The two jogged down a dark hallway until they reached a circular room. Voices from inside the room made themselves audible.

       “Stormcloaks,” Hadvar stated. “Maybe we can try to reason with them.”

       They entered the room with their weapons sheathed. Hadvar held up his hands when the two rebels caught sight of them.

       “Die, Imperial dogs!” one of the soldiers yelled as she brandished her axe. Hadvar attempted to speak to the Stormcloaks but the two attacked on sight. Hadvar grabbed his weapon in time to block the first Stormcloak swing. The other rebel advanced on Acacia. She unsheathed her sword and began blocking all of the attacks. She passed up a few opportunities to strike the soldier’s exposed body. She did not want to kill this man. Hadvar took down his rebel and proceeded to slash the back of Acacia’s foe. The angered Stormcloak turned on the Imperial, swinging with rage. In a couple of swift movements, Hadvar had the rebel on the ground.

       “Let’s get out of here,” Hadvar muttered as he put his weapon away.

       The two continued through the rest of the hallway until the beast outside caused the roof to cave in and block their path.

       “That damned dragon just does not give up,” Hadvar said. “Looks like we’ll have to go around.”

       They made their way through more rooms, fighting more hostile Stormcloaks. Acacia attempted her strategy of defense-only warfare, but she had no choice but to go on the offensive when an especially aggressive soldier advanced her. Without thinking, she swung at the man’s neck, her blade making an uneasy sound as it hit rough on impact. The soldier stumbled and dropped his weapon which clanged loudly on the stone floor. He gargled as he choked on his own blood, coughing up sprays of the thick liquid that stained his face. When he hit the floor, Acacia felt emptier than ever. She had just personally delivered a Nord to Sovngarde. She wondered if perhaps the man would see Lokir there.

       “We have to keep moving,” Hadvar told her as he put a hand sympathetically on her shoulder. Acacia nodded and followed Hadvar further into the keep.

       Sounds of battle ahead of them sped up their jogs. They entered what seemed to be the torture room in time to see a couple of Imperials finishing off a few Stormcloak soldiers. Hadvar aided the two men in their struggle, and the Stormcloaks fell instantly.

       “You fellows happened along just in time,” the older of the two said as he cleaned his sword. “These boys seemed a bit upset at how I’ve been entertaining their comrades.”

       Acacia furrowed her brow. “You seem content with your work.”

       “Of course,” the torturer responded. “Damned Stormcloaks wiped out part of my village a few weeks back. I am happy to give them what they deserve.”

       “Don’t you even know what’s going on?” Hadvar chimed. “A dragon is attacking Helgen!”

       The torturer scoffed. “A dragon? Please. Don’t make up nonsense.”

       The younger man, who Acacia assumed to be the torturer’s assistant, jumped to his boss’ defense. “We did here some strange noises earlier.”

       “Come with us,” Hadvar encouraged. “We need to get to safety.”

       “You have no authority over me, boy,” the torturer responded.

       “Didn’t you hear me? I said the keep is under attack.”

       As the two argued, Acacia focused her attention on a small table in front of her. On it sat a knapsack, a dagger, and an old, tattered book. The book’s black cover held the same dragon symbol that was on the red flags in the courtyard. She picked the book up and flipped it open to the first page.

_The Book of the Dragonborn,_ she read to herself.

       “Forget the old man,” the torturer’s assistant told Hadvar. “I’ll come with you.”

       Acacia wanted to know more about the strange book, so she lifted the knapsack and tucked the book inside, slinging the pack onto her shoulders.

       “Let’s go,” Hadvar commanded his small group. The three of them left the torturer behind and continued through the keep. They passed cages hanging from the ceiling with skeletons resting inside. Acacia wondered what their crimes had been to make them deserving of such a death. Soon they came upon a hole in the keep’s wall. It seemed to lead into a cavern in the mountain beside the village. Acacia and Hadvar stepped through the opening first, but an unfortunate collapse of the building’s structure left the torturer’s assistant trapped inside the keep.

       “Looks like it’s just us again,” Hadvar noted.

       Acacia followed the Imperial soldier throughout the cavern. She was glad to be back in nature. The flowing streams put her at peace. She closed her eyes tight and tried to envision herself back home in Valenwood. Her mother sat in her rocking chair, her father tended the fireplace. They told stories about the early days of their love. Acacia felt warm again. Suddenly, the door to the house slammed open and a stranger barged into the home. He took Acacia’s mother forcibly by the arm and pushed her out of the door. Acacia opened her eyes quickly, ending the scene.

       “There.” Hadvar pointed to an opening in the cavern. White light streamed into the dark cave. “That’s the way out. I was starting to wonder if we’d ever make it.”

       Hadvar exited first, Acacia close at heel. Once outside, they noticed the dragon flying in the distance, heading away from them.

       “I think it’s gone for good this time,” Acacia said.

       “We better not stick around to find out.”

       “I agree.”

       “Closest town from here is Riverwood,” Hadvar informed her. “My uncle’s the blacksmith there. I’m sure he’d help you out.”

       “Thank you.”

       “I think it might be best if we split up. Just follow this road north and you’ll find the town.”

       Acacia watched as Hadvar began making his way down the road. He slowed to stop and turned to face her before he was too far ahead. “Thank you, I wouldn’t have made it out of there if it wasn’t for your help.”

       “You’re the one who saved me.”

       Hadvar took on a guilty look. “I didn’t stop the headsman.”

       “You didn’t have a choice. You were given orders.”

       He grinned and shook his head. There was silent moment before he continued. “Listen, you should go to Solitude and join up with the Imperial Legion. We could really use someone like you.”

       Acacia looked at the ground. They were far enough down the mountain that there was no snow. “I don’t know about that. I didn’t come to Skyrim to fight a war.”

       Hadvar nodded understandingly. “I see. Then why did you come?”

       “To make sure my family has a chance to live.”


End file.
